The sermon today was on imagination--imagine a new world where no one is hungry or filled with despair. That kind of thing. It's the first Sunday of the month, so we celebrated Communion. Sort of. Toward the end of the service, he asked us to imagine, in solidarity with the poor and those who are suffering this day--to imagine that the loaf and cup are really there, that we are really taking Communion. He asked everyone to come forward and, although the plate was actually bare and the cup empty, to nevertheless hold out their hands as he and I gave them, not tangible bread or juice, but a blessing. Everyone was asked to open themselves to imagine receiving.
I thought the idea was innovative. But I never imagined (no pun intended) how powerful, how incredibly meaningful it would be for me to give each person who approached a real blessing..."This is the bread of life, Mary (or whoever). This is the cup of grace and blessing, given to remind you of how much you are loved. Go now in peace to serve the Lord." Most people made eye contact with me as I spoke these words. I love that. It's almost as if I can feel God loving them through me. And when their eyes remain open I can often see them receive that love. Honestly.
This morning I experienced the reality that is ever-present but hidden, the reality just behind that gossamer veil, the really Real.
What made the morning even more special was that David came to the service. (He's usually at his own church, the one we were married in and which has been through some tough conflict this year.) But this morning he came because he wanted to have communion. When his time came in the line, he surprised me with a "holy kiss" (so to speak) before I gave him the blessing.